


Wonderful Vices

by dietblood (loquaciousSkeptic)



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Angst, Bratty Reader, Caliginous, Drugs, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gen, Pitch relationship, Poetry, Quadrant Vacillation, Smoking, Teasing, alcohol mention, nonbinary reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loquaciousSkeptic/pseuds/dietblood
Summary: “You think I want you to ravish me like an army lover. But that’s not the kind of relationship I have with you. It’s symbiosis, you take what you need and leave me out to dry, like a tulip’s ambrosial pollen stolen by greedy lustful insects. You’re a narcissist, manipulator, despicably evil, and worst of all, you’re a fucking poet. But I can’t seem to stop myself from tragically craving you, just like Echo did with Narcissus. Now fucking please. I want to recreate the legend: let the flower bloom where you stood and looked at your rigid reflection in the pale whites of my tired ganderbulbs.”
Relationships: Lanque Bombyx/MSPA Reader, Lanque Bombyx/Reader, MSPA Reader/Lanque Bombyx, Reader/Lanque Bombyx
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	1. Wine & Women

Clearing your mind of all the incessant thoughts of darkness and glumness you had festering in there had never been easy for you. It took a lot to get your sorry self out of the respiteblock, dressed, and onto the nighttime streets. Taking long walks alone seemed to be the only way to get yourself to relax and think to yourself about the highway full of traffic accidents in your head.

All of your usual coping mechanisms only made your poor mental state worse. You hastily thought to try those disgusting insect carapace drugs, but after kicking it with Cirava a few times, each time blacking out after getting too dizzy and waking up in a pool of various bodily fluids, you came to the conclusion that alien drugs were too strong and too potentially fatal for your already weakened human immune system. The troll liquor you were able to get your hands on was surprisingly barely different from human liquor, but every time you came to after a haze of blissful drunken ignorance you became more depressed than before.

You paced down the streets, face feeling coldly numb but with a sore expression full of pain. The moons pierced the dark purple sky above the streets with their peachy glow and cast a magenta-tangerine haze over the alien sky; it reminded you largely of an Earth sunset. It was nostalgic, and a tinge of melancholy shot up your chest, manifesting itself as a lump in your throat, which you swallowed as you kept your pace.

Life was at least SLIGHTLY normal for the past couple of weeks— or months? It’s hard to tell. Do they even use those units of time here? Who fucking cares. But recently that has changed massively. As a friendship guru, you’d made lots of acquaintances with everyone you could get your alien paws on. But with making friends came making enemies, finding potential lovers, and… a bit of both at once? As much as the quadrant system frustrated you, it surprisingly made thinking about love a bit easier than on Earth. But then again, you are human, and humans aren’t raised with the normalcy of multiple types of romantic feelings, so all of your assimilated new alien feelings were being pushed through a filter of humanity. It was extremely frustrating to figure out in which way you were interested in someone. 

You briefly wonder if hanging out and talking about the bullshit nature of pitch and flush and red romance with a friend or two would improve your mood or help you validate your shitty feelings. You decide “why the fuck not” and stop walking to grab your palmhusk from your back pocket. 

As you’re scrolling through contacts, names meet your eyes and turn into memories in your brain, some fond and some... not so much. You stop scrolling at Elwurd’s name and decide on a whim that you need her boldness and honesty right now. You just hope she doesn’t try to sell you anything, because your self-esteem has got you feeling like a pushover and alien drugs will only majorly fuck you up. After shooting her a quick text asking if you can hang out, you see her begin to type, but stop. Annoying, but understandable for her. She’d always liked to leave you waiting, even when it was a dire situation. Eventually she begins typing again.  
“yeah sure we can hang but I have something I need heLp with first”  
You swallow, recalling the last time you helped her with something. This cannot be good.  
“soooooo this jadebLood came over a few days ago and she Left some of her shit here but I don’t reaLLy wanna go to the caverns for obvious reasons Lmaoo”  
“anyways can you heLp me out with this aLL you gotta do is go give this bag back to anyone in the caverns they’LL know whose it is trust me they’re aLL tight as fuck in there”  
You tell her that it’s fine and you can meet her ASAP to pick up the bag.  
“aLright cooL I’LL come to you just send where you are rn”  
You send her your location on Goregle Maps and she says she’ll be there shortly.

A visit to the caverns. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You can barely recall how long. This might be a good chance to catch up with some of your jade friends while you’re at it. Bronya, Wanshi… You wait for your friend, rolling from heel to toe on the pavement.

Many minutes pass. Your sadness is turning into frustration quickly. She really is taking her sweet ass time. Eventually, after what feels like a goddamn eternity, you see Elwurd down the street, turning the corner, walking coolly with her hands in her jacket pockets, a bag slung over her left shoulder. She paces towards you at a slow and continuous pace, and you almost want to meet her halfway. But you decide to be patient as she approaches you whilst bringing the bag into her hands. “hey you. Long time no see.” She smiles. It’s contagious, and you genuinely smile back at her friendliness towards you. Your smile fades, as does the dopamine you get from seeing Elwurd beaming at you, and there is a moment of silence. She looks… concerned?

“im gonna be honest here you Look sad as shit right now did something happen” She asks, with a surprising air of sympathy in her tone.  
“I’m fine. Just things, I guess.” The copy-and-paste response you’d prepared in case a situation like this would occur.  
“(y/n) ive been toLd that a miLLion times and the person who says it is never fine why dont you ju-”

She pauses, eyes forking up and down your sullen form, studying you. The vulnerability of the scenario almost makes you flush.

“What?”

“i’LL just guess what’s wrong with you then”

You sigh. “Elwurd, I thought I had to deliver this asap…”  
“i can totaLLy teLL youre just trying to get out of this situation Lmao. but sure yeah” She hands you the bag.

You roll your eyes. She must be just trying to get a rise out of you.

“I’m gonna go to the caverns now.”

You begin walking away, Elwurd crossing her arms and glancing at you whilst you walk away, focusing on your delivery goal to get your mind off of your misery and how close she came to guessing the truth.

“its that party isnt it”

.

You freeze.

.  
.  
.

“Party?”

“a few weeks ago and i know you remember because i saw you there. you were with that guy”  
You sweat and turn back to her. 

“You know his name.” You literally sold him drugs.

“course i do i didnt know if you wanted to hear it. i mean id Like to think i know you pretty weLL by now and i assume thats whats bothering you”

And of course, she’s right. Ardata’s party. A memory you drank to forget but always remembered. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen anyone who you saw there, and you were avoiding seeing any of them solely for the reason that you didn’t want to think or talk or hear about him.

“I really just don’t wanna talk about it, okay?” You say, a tinge of pain in your voice. She HAS to hear it.

“do you stiLL think its a good idea to go to the caverns then i mean youre pretty much in the same boat as me”

You hadn’t thought about it like that. But it’s destiny, isn’t it? Plus, the chance that you’ll run into him in such a busy place is low as fuck anyways. Perhaps a sliver of you secretly, morbidly hope you’ll see him, and maybe you can give him a piece of your mind.

“I’ll take my chances.”  
After all, what wouldn’t you do for a friend like her? You pride yourself on your ability to be an excellent friend, it’s basically your whole identity on this planet at this point.

“okay just text me if youre scared or whatever i cant teLL you how many times ive been in your situation hah. see ya”  
You wave goodbye to her, as you begin your walk toward the nearest scuttlebuggy station.

Directions or giant maps encased in glass in this town were scarce; everyone seemed as if they were supposed to just know where everything is by heart. It would be pretty scary if you had nobody that you knew here or if you were brand new. Luckily, with your stream of friends and Goregle maps, you had a decent idea.

The scuttlebuggy ride is long, and it gives you too much time to be alone with your thoughts. 

Elwurd had never been that open with you, at least since you helped her out last time. It was kind of… disturbing. How had she known about him besides seeing you two together? Why would she sell him drugs if she knew he had the potential to try and take advantage of your obliviousness and naivety to get you to take them? It seriously makes you question the integrity of your friendship with her, sending a shock of guilt and betrayal through you. Of course, your optimism shows prowess over skepticism, and you shake your head and remember that Elwurd is your friend. Friends don’t take advantage of each other; that had been hammered thickly into your skull for years in school on Earth. Yet you still remain a bit of a doormat anyway. 

Despite what your pan tells you, you shake away the thoughts of Elwurd intending on harming you and focus on the task at hand.

Your solemn thoughts are ended with an announcement over the intercom and the screeching opening of the scuttlebuggy doors. You exit the vehicle and hop off, the bag slung over your shoulder. You wonder what the hell is in that thing, but it seems rude to peek. You enter the elevator leading underground into the rocky caverns along with some members of various castes, but the majority is jades. Surprisingly, none of them seem too perplexed by your existence, which is a first.

The caverns are even more beautiful than last time, their bioluminescent flora lining intricate paths weaving in and out between stalagmites all throughout the entrance to the caverns. There’s trolls all around, some leaving, some returning, and some going from place to place in the caverns. Despite the emotional nature of grub-raising & lusus-wrangling and the intensive labor that it apparently requires, you can’t help but think that this would be such a beautiful place to work.

Elwurd said to hand the bag to any jadeblood you see, but you try to look around for someone you know. Signs illuminate each path, written in neon Alternian letters telling where each part of the caverns is. You stroll down one of the paths, your heart beating fast, but feeling oddly calmed by the sound of insects chirping and water rushing around you. It’s hard to be miserable here if you’re only there for a bit, but you can tell that being cursed to reside here forever would definitely make its beauty fade and give rise to the dull monotony of doing the same exact thing every fucking day. You ache for poor Daraya.

As you get to a part of the caverns where there is only loud rushing water & gushing waterfalls, over which there is a flimsy suspended bridge. You finally feel some serenity and peace, yet you feel guilty for not coming here earlier in your ongoing depressive episode. As you’re enjoying the respite of it all, you hear an ear piercing shriek from behind you, and you stumble forward on the flimsy bridge, whipping around to see who the intruder of your tranquility is. It’s Wanshi, to your relief. 

“[]is that you, (y/n)??[]” She runs at you to hug you. “Hi again, Wanshi.” You smile as she hugs your waist. You place a hand gently on her head so as to not touch her horns, and you run your fingers through her hair gently.  
“[]this is my favorite place to just run around and scream. is that Why you're here too?[]” She asks. You let out a small laugh.  
“Nope, I was looking for someone, but I came over here just wandering and looking at the beautiful waterfalls.”  
“[]Who are you looking for? maybe i can help you find them!![]” She says, a smile gracing her adorable face.  
“Oh- Nobody in particular. A-anyone. In fact, I’m supposed to be making a delivery.” You sling the bag into your hands. “Do you know who this belongs to?” She grabs the bag excitedly and unzips it.  
“[]hmm… i think so. thank you y/n ill go give it to her right noW![]” She gives you another squeeze and turns and hurriedly gallops into the depths of the cave. 

You turn around and begin your walk the opposite direction.  
Just then, a venomous voice rings through the caverns.

“Wanshi?” It coos.

You freeze at the cold familiarity of the voice. Husky, seductive. The hairs on your neck stand up at the sound of it. Rushed footsteps ensue, and you hear them enter the bridge you were just on. They stop.

“Oh, no fucking Way.” He says under his breath, but you can still hear him.

You turn to see him. The man that’s caused so much pain in your head, it’s Lanque Bombyx. And he still looks cold and cunning as ever, maybe even better looking than before. If a troll could be worth a million bucks, it would be him. He’s got a certain charm that you can’t seem to put your finger on. It’s almost as if he is TOO perfect, his eyeliner always perfectly, agonizingly sharp and cutting in any lighting, even when you’re pinned under him at angles you’d forever regret getting yourself into...

You cross your arms and give him a glance of resignation.  
“What the hell are you doing here?” He spits sharply. A silence reeking of black tension fills the cave like carbon monoxide.  
“What are you doing here?? I don’t have to tell you anything.” You growl.  
He grins that stupid fucking grin of his, baring his bloodthirsty fangs at you. Your knees tremble under the power of his sinful glance.  
“I liVe in these dreadful caVerns, and I’Ve been saddled With the duty of Watching Wanshi. As for you, hoWeVer, I happen to knoW that the security here isn’t the fondest of intruders in these parts of the caVes.”

Fuck.

He’s bluffing.

You scoff, deciding whether or not to lie to him about your purpose at the caverns today. “If you MUST know, I was bringing something for someone.”  
“Really?” He flashes you a snarky grin. God, you remember how much you hate his fucking guts as you can feel your face flush hot and turn bright pink in the dim light.  
“Yes, asshole. A friend asked me to, and I wanted to help them.”  
“You don’t eVer say no to a friend, do you, darling?”  
Your sweaty palms clench your forearms as your face contorts itself into an angry frown. The word “darling” from his blackberry lips sends shivers down your spine, and he always seems to know JUST what to say to rile you up, in just a few words with such foul implications. Perhaps that’s what happens when you’re a poet, able to strike and evoke such feeling and suffering in amazing brevity.

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mutter flatly, letting a few anxious chuckles escape your lips. He struts up closer to you, the height difference between you two staggering as he stands just a few inches from you. You look up at his stupid perfect face angrily.  
“You’re such a crybaby, you knoW that?”  
“You don’t know anything about me.” You say, poking him in the chest with fervor.  
He laughs a dry cackle, fangs catching the dim bioluminescence of the cavern, the gushing waterfall the only thing breaking the tension-plagued silence between the two of you.  
“I knoW enough. I knoW more than you think, more than you Would like me to.”

“...”

What a narcissistic asshole.

He leans in to whisper into your ear.  
“I knoW you simply can’t stop thinking about that night. The one Where you surrendered your Vulnerability to me, of all people you could’Ve caVorted With on this lurid, sorry excuse for a planet. When you let me raVage you With the passion of an army loVer, letting me press you ardently into the respiteblock floor and hearing you breathe my name in gasping Whines as you beg for more.”

His words send you into oblivion. You’re disgusted. It sends waves through your body, both of utter immoral disgust… and pleasure you’ve never known before. This has GOT to be caliginous… whatever the hell that is. You don’t know whether to coil your arms around his toned body like a slitherbeast and shove his tongue down your throat, or grab him by the collar and shove him over the side of the bridge. In the meantime, you glare at him, a look of utter disdain and chagrin on your face.  
“You’re filthy. Fucking foul. I can’t believe you.” You pout at him, and he grabs your chin roughly with his garnet manicured nails and tilts you up to look at him.  
“Don’t deny it, sWeetheart. I can see it on your countenance.”

Now who the fuck says countenance.

You grab his wrist with your right hand, and a burning question finally reveals itself on the tip of your tongue.  
“Why the fuck do you tease me like this if I ‘wasn’t that good’??” You sneer at him, releasing your pent up ‘blackrom’ frustration (yeah, you can admit it now. Isn’t that what they call it?). All he does is flash the same snarky grin you’re now used to and look down at you like you’re nothing to him. Despite his confident appearance, he seems to be speechless, to your surprise (and grim amusement).  
“I haVe a reputation to uphold here. You can’t say the same, noW can you?”  
“Of course I fucking can. You know how many people I know here?” You blurt out.

“Not nearly enough, at least compared to me.” He scoffs.  
A throb of utter rage propels itself through your temples.  
“Do you even know what you put me through mentally?? What would letting you manipulate me into fucking you do for ME?” You screech, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

It’s over, all of your internalized aggression has left your thinkpan and is manifesting itself in your attack as you tackle him & push him to the floor, straddling him at the waist as you continue to grab handfuls of his shirt and abruptly shake him back and forth, like a crooked interrogator in an old cop movie.

It feels good.  
Really good.  
But the part that makes you the maddest? His face still looks fucking perfect, and you lean into him, growling as you express your bitter, betrayed, unbridled rage. 

Suddenly, you feel something twitch under your hips at his waist.

...

You stop at the feeling. His face flushes a deep emerald green as he looks up at you, silent and disgruntled.

“Are you…” 

You don’t finish the sentence, but the unfinished part is mutually phantomic, filled in quickly by both of your minds.

You blush as well, and stop strangling him as you fully take in what just happened. The silent tension is so thick and painful in the air; you’re ridiculously glad she isn’t here, but if she was, Lynera could cut the multitude of tension with one of her knives.

You sneer down at him and roll your eyes as he forcefully grabs your head down with both hands in one solid motion and presses it against his hot face in a horribly sloppy kiss, his tongue immediately intruding every corner of your hot, wet mouth. You can feel his sharp fangs nick your lip, and the sensation is a bit painful. But despite feeling extremely violated, this sends you into fucking orbit. You place your hands on the sides of his face, thumbs snaked around his ears and fingertips tracing his cheekbones as he pants directly into your mouth and animalistically gropes your back, raising your shirt up to your shoulders with his claws. The frigid chill of the moist air shocks your bare back as he lets out a long, hushed moan that vibrates against your lips and sends shivers down your spine. 

You hate yourself for this, you told yourself you’d never do this again… but somehow, you knew this would happen. It’s destiny, after all, and you feel great satisfaction from him giving himself to you for the second time, even after saying (albeit LYING) that you “just Weren’t that good”.  
You try to pull away, to tease him, but his hands lock themselves in your hair, pulling you into him. It’s clear that you aren’t going anywhere. In the heat of the moment you search for anything you can use to keep him on edge, and you notice his horns.

You’ve never touched anyone’s horns before, and you assume it’s taboo from the way anyone reacts when they are mentioned. As it would for anyone, this has always fascinated you during your time on Alternia, and you decide to have your alien anatomy questions answered tonight.

You bring your hands from the sides of his face to the top of his head, running your fingers through his thick black locks as you inch your way closer to the base of them. He doesn’t stop you, and still continues to explore your mouth with his tongue and teeth like it’s an undiscovered area of the caverns, his lips tasting gently of blackberry as you run your tongue over them. You place your fingertips at the base of his ridiculously smooth horns and move them in a circular motion. This startles him, and he opens his eyes and lets out a girlish moan, face turning hot and green.  
You can tell based on his body language that the noise that escaped his black lips was uncontrollable, and it embarrassed him.  
This darkly amuses you, and you continue to gently stroke his apparently sensitive, perhaps erogenous horns at the base. He adjusts himself to the mix of pain and pleasure. Lanque runs his cold hands down your sides, causing you to shiver in delight at the sensation, and he reaches the waistband of your shorts with his claws, slipping his hands inside and groping your hips and ass. The large tent in his pants writhes beneath you, and the feeling of keeping him on edge is almost getting you soaked already.

The two of you are enjoying this too much, it’s painfully obvious, and your hatemakeout session is cut short by another ear piercing scream. He pulls his hands out from your shorts and you let go of his horns as he flips you over onto the ground and stands, not even offering a hand to help you up as he re-coifs his hair.

His asshole-ishness has returned, you suppose.

You stand and cross your arms, wiping your mouth of the black lipstick he’d peppered on you. He grabs his jacket from the ground and smooths his shirt.

“Wanshi?” He calls out, to which the response is him spinning around and seeing her standing a few feet away. He startles, face burning, and you laugh dryly at his embarrassing reaction as you stand back up.

“[] What are you guys still doing here?? []” She says, laughing. She turns to you. “[] also!! i gave the thingy you told me to give back to the girl and she says thanks! []” You smile at Wanshi and thank her again for delivering.

Lanque clears his throat. “We Were just leaVing.” He spits, composure regained as he grabs your wrist and the two of you walk out of the waterfall cave. Wanshi follows suit behind.

“What are you doing, dear?” Lanque asks her.  
“[] What do you mean? []”  
“I mean, Why are you folloWing us?”

Ouch. You cross your arms and roll your eyes at his obliviousness. Isn’t he supposed to be watching her anyways? That dumbass.

“[] i’m going to go see bronya, DUH. church is almost over and she said i can play With karako today []” Wanshi says sarcastically, but she manages to return Lanque’s rudeness.  
“Alright.”

The three of you go back the way you originally came and then down another path of the caverns until you see the warm, familiar sight of the lusus pen and Bronya’s nursery with the pools of sopor, her room tucked away so that nobody will find out she’s keeping sick grubs in there. You’ve always admired her for that: few people here are that kind of heart. You want to go back there and catch up, maybe see how she’s been doing these days, but Lanque seems to have other ideas. As Wanshi hightails it over to the nursery, he pulls you aside around a corner very swiftly so as to not alert anyone. His sharp nails and sweaty palms create an unpleasant itchy sensation on your wrist as you squirm under his grasp.

“Where the hell are we going?” You ask flatly as he leads you down a very narrow corridor, rocky walls naturally sharp like uncut gemstones. He doesn’t respond, and continues to grab you as you try your darndest not to get cut or scraped on the walls. He stops in front of a door with 2 familiar symbols on it and opens it, roughly pulling you in as he closes the door behind you.

You look around at where he’s led you. It’s his room. Well, shared with Wanshi. Even if you hadn’t been led here by him, it’s recognizable in a heartbeat: the sloppy drawings and soldier purrbeast posters on one half of the wall, the pinned-up red-ink poems and Troll Morrissey posters on the other. The room smells delicately masculine, just like Lanque’s cologne, like a sweet & tender rose fused with rugged sandalwood. You’d recognize the scent anywhere after the night you spent with him on Ardata’s floor; occasionally whilst you were out in public, the nostalgic smell would catch itself on the breeze and tease your nostrils with the previously painful memory.

But you’re here now, immersed in his smell, and you really can’t wait to get it all over you again.

“I haVe something special for us.” He says, opening his desk drawer and shoving it back a second later after grabbing what he needed out of it. From where you stand it looks like a small baggie, and he moves papers around on his messy desktop to search for something blindly. To no surprise, it’s a lighter. He walks over to you, still taking in the scene whilst standing at his doorway, and opens the baggie to reveal what looks like a troll version of a joint. You’re a little nervous; you haven’t smoked since you’d last seen Cirava a few weeks ago, and as you know alien drugs aren’t exactly built for human bodies. Suddenly your mind is struck with a harsh pang of remembrance of when Lanque gave the troll acid he bought from Elwurd for you to Diemen, and how you felt like such a square. It briefly saddens you that he seems to only engage in intimacy with you under the influence of vices, but the prudeness of that revelation is washed away by your hedonism. Because of that pressure and your particular tendency to indulge him tonight, you decide you’ll smoke it with him. It can’t be worse than earth weed, right?

Lanque hold the joint delicately between his devilish, sweet berry lips and fumbles with the lighter until he gets a spark and lights it up. The end lights bright pinkish orange and you watch him french inhale the creamy smoke as his cheeks fill up with it, eventually blowing it out to the side. The smoke smells more soft and tender than earth weed smoke does, and it is almost pleasant to inhale. He sighs deeply, and smiles his awful smile at you with the joint held between his red coffin nails on his perfect fingertips. Seeing him like this again makes your heart ache, and you feel too overcome by lust to make any good judgements. A shiver runs down your spine as you nip at your lip. Primal urges occupy every semblance of resistance and willpower occupying you. As it becomes quickly unbearable how much you wanna fuck this guy, you desperately lunge at him to initiate another makeout, but he backs up and causes you to lean forward dumbly. You frown.

“What the fuck, man.”

“Sshhh.” He seems to have another idea, and you feel hurt at the sensation of NOT being attached to him in a fierce and gripping liplock. He places his cool hand on the side of your face and takes a long drag from the joint, holding in the smoke. He brings his asshole face close to yours and looks you directly in the eyes with his hypnotizing gaze. You think he’s done holding it in until to your surprise he leans in and meets his perfect lips with yours again, kissing you passionately and slipping his left arm around your waist to grab your ass as his right hand presses your faces together, his pinky on your cheekbone. You can feel the smoke transfer itself from his mouth to yours as his dank tongue snakes its way through your mouth. The smoke tastes like rosemary and (non-skunky) weed, and you search the crevices of his mouth with your tongue as the two of you rock your bodies together in a solid fervent motion, at an aching singular pace. You pull apart at the same time breathlessly, your face covered in beads of sweat as you both pant at the release. He brings his hand around to let you take a drag from the joint, the tasty smoke filling your mouth and numbing you to any remaining memories of the pain he left you with last session.  
You inhale, and then smoke pours from your mouth into the air. A cough starts in your itching throat, but you push the feeling away with all of your strength. He grins snarkily, taking another huge drag, blowing it in your face. It stings your eyes a bit, but the pleasure of it all is worth the pain. You sneer, snarling at him. This absolutely riles him up, and eventually you snap. 

You can’t take it anymore. In seconds you are putty in his gorgeous flawless hands, pushing him down forcefully onto his back on the loungeplank and flinging yourself at him, straddling him again, grinding your waist into his hips, panting and gasping sweetly as he pushes you slightly away.

~  
This shatters you again.  
~

“Fucking god, Lanque, can you please just... just let me have you for myself? Just this once?” You say, overcome with catharsis. He grabs your wrists, your thighs bucking against the tent writhing in his pants as to stimulate yourself.  
He is silent, looking at you from under his charming hair with a scorning, reviling glare.

It eats at you. 

But suddenly, you realize what you have to do in order to get him to give himself to you.

“You THINK I want you to ravish me like an army lover. But that’s not the kind of relationship I have with you. It’s symbiosis; you take what you need and leave me out to dry, like a tulip’s ambrosial pollen stolen by greedy, lustful insects. You’re a narcissist, manipulator, despicably evil, and worst of all, you’re a fucking POET. But I can’t seem to stop myself from tragically craving you, just like Echo did with Narcissus. Now fucking PLEASE. I want to recreate the legend: let the flower bloom where you stood and looked at your rigid reflection in the pale whites of my tired ganderbulbs.”

This apparently works wonders for him, just as you expected: just a second later, he is feverishly unbuttoning his shirt as you take off your hoodie and shirt, leaving you in only a bra above him. You shove your face onto him again as he reaches around to undo the clasp, muttering “...let’s get this shit off,” under his breath as he unbuckles his belt. You grind relentlessly against him as your bra falls off and you feverishly move your fingers through his hair, his face hot and pressed against your cool chest, gently sucking your skin and leaving little love bites all over. He reaches your supple neck, and he clamps down a bit harder with his fangs, sucking a bit of your cherry candy blood from your upper clavicle. It does hurt a bit, but god does it feel so good. A moment later his bulge is out, writhing in the air and searching for somewhere to plunge & nest itself.

“I’m sure you can deduce by noW that We’re not using a bucket, my darling.”

“Okay...?”

You climb down off of him as he spreads his legs for you, and you get on your knees beneath him. This angle, again, makes him look fabulous STILL somehow. It infuriates you as you grab his wriggling green bulge and shove it unceremoniously into your mouth.

The feeling is strange, as if a rubbery tentacle was shoved down your throat, and he pushes your head down onto him hard, his head thrown back as he groans in pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so fucking good.”

You stop.

.  
…  
.

What did he just say?

“Huh?” You say, mouth full of alien cock.

He turns deep green and stutters.

...

“Did I giVe you permission to stop?”

“I don’t need your permission, asshole. You just said I’m good, didn’t you?”

“I don’t knoW What you’re talking about.” He snarls.

You roll your eyes.  
“Whatever, fuckhead. I know what I heard.”

His bulge writhes within your face at the sound of you calling him names, unsurprisingly but still sadistically arousing him even more. You smile around him, continuing to give him head as you place a hand on his quivering thigh. You bob your head up and down at a fast yet still pleasurable pace, drool gathering at the edges of your lips. His fingers snake their way into intertwining with yours on his thigh. You hold his hand while sucking his bulge, the antithesis of the romantic, innocent gesture crass and foul when juxtaposed with the vulgarity of your predicament.

The sensation feels great in your mouth, so hot and dripping wet, and his noises are so heavenly that you fear you’ll climax without even touching yourself. All of a sudden you feel hotness gushing down your throat as Lanque tilts his head all the way back and moans without filter.

Fuck.

His hot genetic material floods your throat and gushes out the sides of your mouth as you sit silently in awe, proud of your alien dick-sucking skills. You remove your shorts and then your panties and climb back up onto his lap as you rub your bare sweetness against his bulge.  
“You can’t fucking do this to me…” He whines as you tease him, remembering his horns. You run your fingers through his hair again and rub your hands up and down on them like a handjob. He pants in pleasure as he suddenly lifts your ass and plunges his bulge into your hot cunt. You let out a small cry at the sudden sensation. It was almost a struggle to fit all of it in your mouth, but not unmanageable. Now inside of your pussy, it feels ridiculously big. You press your chest against his as he strongly grabs your ass roughly and moves it up and down on his bulge with ease. “F..fuck… L...Lanque…” You pant his name between his harsh strokes, groping at his back and pressing your fingertips to his smooth chest. 

“You’re fucking mine, you knoW that? All the easy, dumb Whores on this planet are all the same. You’re… hn… different.” He says, stifling his moans. It’s kind of pathetic, but you feel yourself pulsing around him.

“Lanque... I’m gonna fucking… I’m so close… I’m gonna cum-“ You groan into his ear as he lifts you onto the loungeplank, flipping you around. The feeling of his bulge being pulled out of you makes your body writhe and ache in search of something pleasurable, so you reach down with your fingers in desperate search of stimulation. He grabs your wrist and tsks with his snakelike tongue.

“We Won’t be haVing any of that.”

He grabs his bulge, pumping it once or twice with his hand, and he shoves it back into you, your eyes rolling back in your head as you arch your back into his loVe. As he thrusts into you, pounding with an overwhelming intensity, he leans over to suck the blood out of your neck again. Obviously, you let him, because why the hell not. The feeling of being drained a bit whilst simultaneously being fucked full is unique and definitely alien to you. He removes his mouth, shuddering as he picks up the pace with his strokes, and you look up to see your color staining his lips and chin.  
And FUCK is it hot.  
A bit of blood trickles down the side of your neck, but you’re so fucking close to orgasm that you don’t even care about all the damage he’s done to you anymore. He fucks into you a few more times before you’re seeing stars: the world is tinged slightly yellow as you breathe his name into his ear, pulling him in by the horns as his pace increases. It’s getting increasingly overwhelming as you let yourself go totally limp, Lanque being the sole controller of your body, fucking you into nothing, into absolute oblivion. His strokes become much longer, and occur few times and far between until you feel him erupt within you with a loud moan. What feels like gallons of gushy, thick jade green genetic material are pumped into you and fill you up quickly, staining your thighs his green, his color. He looks down at his work, an impressed glint in his otherwise inscrutable onyx eyes.

“Hm. My color actually looks nice on you. Guess there’s a first for everything.”  
“Sh….shut the fuck up.” You wheeze, lunging up to place a toxic kiss on his mouth to get him to stop talking. You feel his smouldering grin against your lips as he places one of his fingers around your chin, other hand gently fondling your breast before he pulls away and begins to redress. You lay back on the loungeplank, dripping in his juices, looking hurt. “Hello?”  
“Oh yes. I suppose you’re going to haVe to clean up.”  
“And how am I supposed to do that? You’re the one who came all over me.” He smirks as you mention that, pants and shirt on, but unbuttoned.  
“I’ll be right back.”  
He leaves you in his room, the air cooling the liquid all over you, making you freezing. You lay there for what seems like hours, thinking about what you just did. How you feel. How you’re gonna feel tomorrow. Before the sadness and doubt hits you super hard, Lanque returns, towel in hand. He throws it at you, and you roll your eyes as you clean yourself up. He always did like things to get messy.

Epilogue

You’re fully dressed again as Lanque walks you to the elevator out of the caverns.  
“So will you give me your Chittr this time?”  
“Hm…”  
“Don’t be an asshole. Remember I’m not a one night stand anymore?”  
Silence.  
He blinks.  
Lanque inhales deeply, then lets out every ounce of air in his blackened lungs.  
“I don’t know how to Word this other than just saying it, which comes as a surprise to me as a poet, but I digress.”

“(y/n), I’m pitch for you.”

…

Pitch…  
Like caliginous? Isn’t this what you thought you were feeling for him too?

“Seriously?”

“Why Would I say it if it’s not true.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean… I’ve been feeling the same way. Just after that night at the party, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, about you.”

“Well, it is nice to knoW you reciprocate.”

“So we’re like... kismesis now?”

“Yes, moron. That’s What pitch means. And Why Would I lie to you?” He teases.

“When haven’t you fucking lied to me?” You tease him back.

The two of you reach the elevator and he grabs your face and pulls you in for another steamy kiss goodbye, fangs catching your bottom lip gently as you let out another gentle, sensual sigh into his mouth. You wave goodbye to him before stepping into the elevator, which he enthusiastically returns with the middle finger.  
Asshole.

Well, now you’ve got a story to tell Elwurd.


	2. Orgiastic Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You feed into this complex of his as you jam your tongue down his throat, enabling his touch-starvedness. He grabs your right shoulder with his cold arm as you breathe all of his scent in like inhaled smoke. You begin to rut yourself against his clothed crotch, giving in to your lust, slowly but surely. He backs away. Fury overcomes you.  
> “Are you serious? Again? Do I have to recite some stupid fucking poetry about how badly I want to suck you off again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (content warning: mild choking, degrading, dubious consent)

Back in the caverns again. With every visit they gain more monotony, their beauty giving way to bittersweet sorrow. It reflects what you feel within, your aspects of love and hate battling for dominance in your soul. It is unsurprising that many of the jades consider themselves poets, as it would be difficult to live in a place as multifaceted as this without some method of emotional expression. As you pace along the illuminated paths, you ponder, and in your mind, you see phantoms of your past self walking beside them with Elwurd’s bag in hand, Wanshi racing to Bronya’s hidden nursery after church, the relaxing sound of the waterfall, and the gentle glow and aroma of the flora all around you. You get to the bridge, where Wanshi had said she’d often come to scream. That was amusing, coming from her, but sad to hear, especially at her age, that she already needed an outlet. You look down, red-faced, at the spot where you’d lost a fragment of yourself in your rage.

You are sharply broken apart from your reverie by the call of your name, a sweet sounding voice like a quiet flute. You’d recognize it anywhere, it’s Bronya. You turn swiftly and see her standing a few feet from you, a gentle and warm grin gracing her emerald lips. She’s as beautiful as ever; tall and curvy, with one hand cocked on her hip, the other waving you over. You follow suit: you assume that when she needs you out of anyone here, she needs you for a reason.

You’re glad that you finally are able to catch up with her after all this time. You haven’t seen HER since the party, and she might have not even seen you there. She looks around anxiously, her long, sable hair bobbing left to right in the stagnant cavern air, before she grabs your hand firmly and pulls you into her nursery.

The nursery smells alarmingly like the doctor’s office and restaurant hand soap, and you assume it’s to cut through the stench of the many sopor pools before you. She brings you further into her nursery until you’ve reached a small corridor that leads to her room, her insect-like sign along with a to-do list scrawled on a whiteboard perched on the door frame. You follow Bronya into her room, taking in all its glory. Her walls are covered in Wanshi’s art, as well as some posters of various-blooded ladies, akin to Elwurd’s room. Her personal space smells gently of rose hips and sweet hand sanitizer, and everything is organized in efficient little piles just like in Stelsa’s office.  
“Please take a seat.” Her tone is very neutral, and you’re not surprised; however, it seems almost apologetic. You sit on her loungeplank rigidly, and your leg twitches in restlessness. She paces before you, alarmingly. This is not sitting well with you, and your mind starts to wander.

She turns to you and opens her mouth to say something, only a small “ah” escaping, but she quickly shakes her head and returns to her pacing, face turning slightly green. You glance at her knowingly, even though you really don’t know shit about anything that’s happening at the moment. She stops pacing and returns your glance with something… cold. Very un-Bronya-like. Her visible eyebrow is turned down in a scowl, and her face has warped into an ugly frown.  
“I don’t know how to tell you this other than being terse about it.”  
She pauses.  
“I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to come around here anymore.”  
Your face heats up and your heart sinks to your shoes.  
“Why...?” You swallow.  
“1. I saw you at the party about a wipe ago. 2. I saw you the last time you came around here. 3. I think you’re getting into the wrong types of shenanigans with the wrong kinds of people.”  
You’re flooded with embarrassment. This is all his fucking fault. Insecurity overwhelms your skin with beads of sweat as you look up at her with betrayal, searching for a semblance of a way to defend yourself against her.  
“Are you mad…because I decided to become friends with…Lanque?” You ask innocently, and Bronya visibly becomes flustered.  
“vV Of course not!! Vv” She says startledly.  
“I can’t possibly control all that you do, nor am I trying to…but…” She pauses to recollect herself.  
“Forgive me if I’m prying here… but what exactly is the nature of your relationship with him?”  
She really is prying, but do you really care at this point?  
At the same time you try to respond to her inquisition, your palmhusk starts vibrating intensely in the quiet room. You grab it just to see who it is, and to your displeasure, it’s Lanque. You sigh, shove it back in your back pocket, and try to form a decent response to Bronya’s question. Do you tell her about your kismesissitude with him, or do you lie? You hate lying to friends, but you really want to be able to be pitch with him openly. At the same time, either way, you’re gonna have to do a lot of sneaking around. Might as well not let her worry about you.  
“We’re just friends. Nothing more.”  
She cocks her head at you, her frown reverting back into a simple neutral expression.  
She sighs.  
“I’m sorry. I feel so dumb.”  
You assure her that it’s nothing to worry about; you understand why she’d assume you were more than just friends, and that you know about what he’s done.  
“Do you really? Because…look, y/n, you just need to be careful with him. Don’t let him manipulate you into anything you don’t want to do, because he does that with everyone ALL the time. God forbid he tries to pull anything like pailing.”  
You blush at her mentioning that. Oh ho ho ho boy does she have no fucking idea. Last week’s session you’re not totally worried about anyone knowing about, but did she really not know what happened at Ardata’s party?  
“I assure you nothing like that has happened. We’re only friends, and I intend on keeping it that way.”  
Bullshit, bullshit, and more bullshit.  
She smiles genuinely at you, and places a manicured hand on your left shoulder gently.  
“vV Wonderful! And just remember, if he ever fucks with you, call me and I will beat him senseless with an arena stickball wand. Vv”  
You chuckle, but she appears to be 100% serious. Nice.  
“Now, I need some help around here, if you’re willing.”  
Why not.  
“What’s up?”  
“1. There’s been an increase in the amount of seadweller grubs born recently. 2. They are transported to the edge of the caverns on the coast. 3. They need extra tending to, and I’ve got a particularly tricky sick mutant I’ve been dealing with recently, so I can’t deal with them. Do you think you could help me? Only for a few hours, of course.”  
You nod, and she gives you directions as to where that portion of the caverns are. Bronya sends you off with a gentle hug.

As you waltz towards the coast down the winding corridors of the brooding caverns, you recall your palmhusk and Lanque’s messages. You decide to see what all the fuss was about and call him back. What the fuck? There’s like 50 missed calls on there.  
The line rings. No answer for at least a minute. You frown and stop walking.

“It’s about fucking TIME, y/n!”  
“You literally caught me at the worst time. I was with Bronya.”  
“I kneW she Was onto us. Well, What did you say?”  
“I said we’re just friends, even though that’s a lie.”  
“Oh, my dear, you get more deVilish the more I get to know you. It’s irresistible.”  
“Me lying to Bronya really got you that hard?”  
He scoffs. “Tch. NoW When am I seeing you?”  
“I’m going to the coast of the caverns to help out with seadweller grubs.”  
“You mean you actually listened to Bronya?”  
“I’m her friend, you dick.”  
“WhateVer. I’m meeting you there.”  
No question. He calls it like it is, as per usual.  
“Okay. See you there.” You say indignantly.  
You hang up on him and finish your stroll towards the coast.

The water is a clear lazuli, the moons far, far above reflecting on its chitinous surface. There are a few kiddie pools containing the troublesome grubs, but no caretaker trolls to be found. Seems a bit irresponsible.  
Lanque shows up almost instantly and you smile upon seeing his physique. He’s just as lovely and striking as last time, and now that you’ve entered a quadrant with him you can admit it.  
“She’s saddled you With seadWeller duty, I see. You knoW, there isn’t really much to do.” He remarks, and he’s right, as you don’t recall Bronya giving you any instructions.  
The two of you stand in silence for a moment, looking daringly at the grub pools, then at each other. He licks his lips.  
Smarmy bastard.  
He approaches you, and snakes his arm around your hips. You reflexively jolt, though to him it must feel like you’re leaning into his touch. He inches his icy hands down your hip, tracing your figure, and gropes the back of your thigh. You feel yourself tremble embarrassingly in his arms.  
“My my, sWeetness. Already? It likely Won’t take you long to get Wet this time, Won’t it?”  
“I hate your fucking guts,” You wince through gritte teeth as he moves his hand slowly to your right ass cheek, squeezing roughly. He moves his fingers in a lustful waltz about your ass until he reaches the back of your sex.  
“Really? Through my clothes?” You tease.  
He doesn’t respond, but he flips you facing him and grabs your chin with his hand which is NOT dangerously near to your weak spot. He places his hand akin to your cheekbone, his thumb right next to the corner of your mouth. You open wide, and in an attempt to be quick and sexy, you tongue his thumb gently and bring it into your mouth, sucking it as his face turns bright green. Well, now you’ve done it: you’ve managed to fluster him, and you’re one of the few who can do so.

“Y...You’re such a fucking slut; right here? In front of all these grubs? Hah… I didn’t think you had it in you.”  
His degrading leads to gentle pulses in your core as you moan around his fingertip. One of your hands finds its way towards his belt and you slip a hand into his pants, fervently searching for his nook, above which his bulge is beginning to stir. You begin to slip your fingers in, and he instantly buckles beneath your touch, removing his thumb from your mouth and bringing it to your neck in a fierce grip.  
“I did NOT giVe you permission for that, Whore.”  
His sweaty fingers wrapping around your neck and his manicured nails digging into the slick skin of your neck is almost orgasmic enough, but you gaze up at him like a predator’s prey, hoping it’s enough to get him to keep this going the way you want it to. You attempt to whine out something cocky about not needing his permission, again, but your efforts are in vain.  
He quickly removes his hand from your neck, slightly shocked at how it turned you on, but just as elated as you are at the realization that the bar of your limits is in fucking hell. He steps back and feverishly eyes you, smirking and popping his mouth gently open in an “ah…” as if he were in thought. You pace towards him, and slowly inch your hands up to his face; one flat against his chest and the other tracing up his broad shoulders. He’s pretty sturdy and lean for a troll, and it’s very attractive, as much as it seems pompous of him. 

“Shut your dirty mouth…” You whisper sweetly.

You lean your chin upwards and go in for the kill, lips adjacent to his, tongue already bared as it reaches his warm hotness, fangs gently nicking your bottom lip as the two of you rhythmically lick and suck at each other’s mouths. It feels so fucking good. As you tremble in stimulation, you feel him grin and laugh a quiet but deep, rumbling cackle against your mouth, and in reply, you moan achingly back into him. His style of tongue kissing is vulnerable, intimate, and almost desperate, which is surprising for someone of his demeanor. You feed into this complex of his as you jam your tongue down his throat, enabling his touch-starvedness. He grabs your right shoulder with his cold arm as you breathe all of his scent in like inhaled smoke. You begin to rut yourself against his clothed crotch, giving in to your lust, slowly but surely. He backs away. Fury overcomes you.  
“Are you serious? Again? Do I have to recite some stupid fucking poetry about how badly I want to suck you off again?”

He looks at you coldly, unappreciative of your witty remark. “No. It doesn’t feel right here. FolloW.”  
“But Bronya-“  
“Ah, to hell With Bronya!”  
“I-“  
“Shut up and moVe.”  
You stop arguing with him and follow quickly & frantically behind Lanque as the two of you open the doors to an edifice and enter the corridor you came out here from. You follow him until he suddenly opens up a closet in the hallway, presumably that of a janitor, and he shoves you in, first looking around to see if any witnesses were around.

As soon as he shuts the door, Lanque slams you against the back wall of the small room, and you let out a rebellious laugh. This is the definition of what you’d seen in so many teen movies, so many college movies, and you’re now living them out in real life. It’s surreal, and you remember where you are and who you’re with when he begins to gnaw on your neck. You’re against a large and heavy bin on the floor of the closet, so you prop yourself sitting up, pulling him in by the collars of his tight cream shirt as soon as you’re up. You force his face upon yours in a longing and fervent liplock, and the passion and utter wrongness of it all just excites you beyond human measure. You reach down as he lurches for your tender neck again and you unbutton his shirt, It slides off, and you get the feeling of his rough, pale gray skin against your raw fingertips again. You run your hands gently over his top surgery scars, and he sighs wistfully into your neck, breathing his lovely breath against you. It suddenly occurs to you that this doesn’t feel totally caliginous anymore; is it possible that you’ve fallen in love? Love? Simply the prospect of the concept sends shivers of fear and anguish down your spine. This seems unlike a good moment to consider it though, so you continue to trace your hands along his stunning physique.

“You knoW, I don’t think I’Ve eVer gotten a really good look at you. Your form, I mean.”  
You blush and gape at his sudden words. “You what?”

“Can you just strip so I can look at you already? If We’re gonna continue to do anything like this I need to get a good look at you.” He sneers snarkily, and you roll your eyes and comply, taking off your shorts, shirt, and bra at once. He sits on the bin in the closet, legs spread wide as he takes your naked body in.

“Why are you looking at me like that…? Maybe write a poem about it, it’ll last longer.”

He crosses his arms as he smirks at your remark.  
“EVerything alien about you intrigues me, y/n, from your anatomy to the uniquely bold Way you address me. Frankly, dear, I really can’t get enough.”

Alien.  
Until now, you really never considered yourself truly alien, but it hits you like a truck all of a sudden. Of all places, it’s in the sexual throes of an extraterrestrial experience with an arrogant snob beyond your wildest dreams.

“NoW come here.”

You approach Lanque, and once you are within his reach, he reaches out and feels up the sides of your body; silhouetting you from your sides to your ass and thighs, where he takes a thumb and gently presses it to the top of your vagina through your panties. You shiver slightly at his lukewarm touch, and climb slowly into his lap, rutting against his clothed crotch. 

“Due to my curiosity, I thought this time We Would try something a little different.” 

You stop searching his lap for pleasure and instead stand as he sits you on the bin, removing your panties. He grins, lapping with a gray tongue at his pointy fangs, glinting in the yellow light, but otherwise, it’s utter darkness. Lanque crouches and begins to plant small blackberry kisses on your inner thighs, causing you to ooze out quiet noises of bliss. That mixes with pain quickly, however, as he begins to bite gently at the sensitive flesh with his sharp teeth. He looks so beautiful from up here, and it’s disgusting. 

He looks up at you from the curtain of short black hair covering his right eye and fucking WINKS up at you as he extends his tongue into your trembling hole. You slam a hand over your mouth to quit from screaming in pleasure, his tongue writhing within you just like his bulge did weeks ago. “L...Lanque-“ You cry, and he laughs, the rumbling vibration sending a shock of utter bliss through you, and you bite your lip as he moans into you, kissing and sucking you until you absolutely can’t stand it anymore and you press his raven-haired head into you vulgarly and hollering his name. 

As you begin to feel the throes of a climax, he pulls away. Typical Lanque, he loves to edge, as painful as it may be. You glance up at him with a glum look of despair, hoping to play into a potential sensitive side of his. “Oh, dear lord, do not obserVe me like that!” You grin devilishly, and he rolls his eyes as he steadies himself above your vulnerability. He readies a hand by your sex, gently moving his fingers in and around your clit before he begins to pump his fingers into you harshly. You arch yourself into him and press his hot, trembling face into your bare chest, pulling him in by the horns, eliciting some of the sweetest moans you’ve ever heard from him, and you gush around his hand. His tongue traces your breasts, and the feeling of it all is increasingly overwhelming to the point of sexual mania.

“I can’t fucking take this …. anymore… Just fuck me already...!” You cry submissively, and he tsks and removes his drenched fingers, bringing his hands up to fondle your breasts as you lay back against the bin, pinned there between his legs.

“If it’s a shoW you Want…”

He unzips his dress pants, and his soaking green bulge writhes above you like a shark circling its prey, honing in on the spot it so badly wants to nest itself in. He laughs, again, as he plunges himself within you, his thick and pulsating bulge borderline violating your hole, acting like it fucking OWNS the place (to be honest, it kind of does), pumping in and out of you on its own without a single thrust. “H...how are you doing this…?” You squeak out, and he cackles above you, large arms pressing you into the bin, pinned sweatily around your shoulders.

“HoW am I supposed to get off to calling you a Whore if you’Ve neVer fucked anyone besides,”- he pauses to catch his breath in his sex-fueled tirade- “...me on this planet?” He enunciates the last syllable of ‘planet’ with a thrust, his first one of the session.

“Are… you insinuating that you wanna get cuckolded?”

“Pfffft. That’s preposterous. You’re mine, remember?”

“Y...yes…” You say, embarrassedly.

“NoW say my name.”

He ups his speed, and then forces you to rock with his rhythm harshly until you’re nothing, a shell of a person getting blasted by a stranger.

As you begin to feel the throes of climax approach you from within, he stops again, and you’re furious.

“Are you fucking kidding me???”  
“Settle down, my sWeet. I’m getting a fucking bucket.” He reaches behind him and pulls one underneath the two of you, and just the sight of the object drives you wild. You’re not sure if it’s embedded itself into your brain as an image of sex, like a human sex toy or a ballgag does, but it sure does fucking feel like it.

The moment he enters you again, you’re absolutely gone. Fucked into oblivion. His name spills out of your mouth uncontrollably as you cry helplessly beneath him, and he tilts his head up. You weave your fingers into his, and you feel all of his strength pushing down on you, as your body goes limp and you see fucking stars in your orgasm, which somehow even managed to top last time. He lets a string of obscenities slip from his blackened lips and tries to pull out, but you’re not gonna let that happen, are you?  
You lock your legs, crossing them at the ankles behind him, forcing him to erupt within you.

“Fuck… ah, you’re so good…”

Again. That phrase you just LOVE to hear enter your ears. Fuck, it feels so good.

He pulls out, finally, his material dripping from your vagina and thighs. It enters the bucket below, and he steps back to put his clothes back on as you clean up using the paper towels behind you.

The two of you are clothed again, and return to your Bronya-sanctioned duties, leaving the pail in the janitor’s closet “as a funny, disturbing and deVilish prank”. Totally against your morals, but who could say no to your kismesis after a climax that good?

“I. Um. Wasn’t truly sure if you Were a fan of that.” He whispers to you whilst you walk back to your station.

“A fan of what?”

“The Way you kept me Within you and let me come inside you.”

“Ah I see. What do you call that here? Where I’m from we call it a creampie. You probably call it a baked whipped-moobeast-congealment confectionary or some shit like that.”

“Same thing you call them, dipshit.”

You blink dumbfoundedly. “Well.”

Epilogue 2

“vV Lanque. I have a few questions for you. And I think you should answer them as honestly as possible to prevent a potential future where I maim you with an arena stickball bat Vv”

“I’m listening.”

“1. There was a…. pail... in the janitor’s closet in the hallway of the building over where I asked our mutual friend to work yesterday. 2. It was filled. 3. I have the grounds to believe you are the culprit.”

“That is a baseless accusation. I suppose I’ll play into your little legislacerator charade here and say you haVen’t an iota of eVidence to support your theory.”

“1. Fuck you. With neither pitch nor aspen implication. 2. One of my girls discovered the filled pail when she was looking for some supplies in the janitor’s closet. 3. Wh-“

“What then, mother grub?”

“I wasn’t finished, Lanque. 3. Who else in these caverns is promiscuous enough to do anything in a janitor’s closet, and then leave the pail there? Your track record reveals, Lanque.”

“First of all, I am shocked you Would assume this Was my doing. You reduce me to a simple Whore, Bronya. I’m hurt.”

“Lanque I am one hundred percent serious, and your history leads me to suspicion.”

“And Why Wouldn’t you be? Some sexual deviant, lo, perVerted exhibitionist, has committed unspeakable acts in a public closet, and you feel compelled to accuse moi, the ‘most easy jadeblood’.”

“…”

“And you’d be right. Lucky for you, the ‘most easy jadeblood’ is in fact, charming as hell and capable of getting people on their knees quicker than the empress.”

“You make my job 500% harder, you know?”

“▲ so what are you in detention for ▼”  
“...being horny…”  
“▲ what ▼”  
“BEING HORNY”

**Author's Note:**

> 9/17/20: this is so self indulgent lmao it’s kind of embarassing. Expect more coming! I am working on a second chapter as of october 2020
> 
> 10/25/20: I can’t believe this has over 10k words. Almost 11k words I have written because I’m horny for the vampire man. Anyway I’m likely gonna continue this but expect monthly (?) updates at best since life is kicking my ass. stay beautiful my esteemed guests


End file.
